Page 42 of Lovers' Dance

“I can do it.”

“No, you can’t.” Dante walked over. “Not yet, at least. But if you come to classes every week and practice all the time—”

Melanie’s thin shoulders slumped.

“You’ll be as good as Janey,” I finished. “Now put a smile on your face. Have you ever seen a pouty ballerina?” I gestured to the adults around us, all in various warm-up positions. They plastered exaggerated grins on their faces. I laughed. Melanie unwillingly started to giggle, too.

“Good girl, let’s go call your mom.” I ushered her in the direction of the door.

“We’re starting, Madi,” Dante warned. “Don’t be too long.”

I gave a backward wave of acknowledgement and hurried the little girl out of the room. At the front desk, I found her mom’s number on the database and called. It was on the third call she answered.

“Mrs Traynor.” I injected as much firmness into my voice as possible, thinking of Matt as I did. He could make someone tremble with just a word. “It is now six thirty and your daughter is waiting for you to pick her up. Her class finished at five pm.”

Melanie’s mom started spewing out excuses. I’d heard them all before.

“I understand you have other commitments and two younger kids, but we are not babysitters. If you’re unable to get here on time, I suggest you make arrangements for someone else to pick up Melanie—”

She made a comment about our increased prices and I had to swallow my anger. The increase had been smaller than Dante wanted, but it wasn’t as expensive as some of the other ballet schools.

“Yes, we did increase our prices and, if we had to look after our students after their classes ended, it would be triple the fees. It is not a service we provide. How long until you get here?” I hung up after she said she would arrive in fifteen minutes. Bitch.

Gloria, who was keeping Melanie distracted while I spoke to her mom, glanced over at me with a roll of eyes. Mrs Traynor was known for her inability to maintain good timekeeping. Melanie’s ears were red with shame. I felt bad for the kid, remembering what it was like being left waiting for someone to come pick you up. Aunt Cleo had done her best, but there were times I wondered if she’d forgotten I existed. The resentment I felt when she would bustle through the front doors of my ballet class, agitatedly telling me to come on as if I’d been the one keeping her waiting…

“Would you like a fruit bar, Mel?” I reached under the desk for Gloria’s secret stash and was rewarded with a menacingly glare from its owner. I shrugged at her unspoken threat and pulled one out. The kid must be starving. “Here you go, pumpkin. You wait here with Gloria until your mom arrives and I’ll see you next week?”

Melanie nodded as she tore off the wrapping and wolfed the bar down in three bites. I frowned, exchanging a look with Gloria. Was it me or did she seem more slender than before? I would watch her from now on. Maintaining a healthy weight was a must. I’d seen too many girls back home battling themselves to keep the perfectly petite frame expected of ballerinas. Lucky for me, I had an aunt Cleo. The one time she had caught me puking up food, she had slapped my ass hard as I bent over the toilet bowl and said, “Don’t you be following them scrawny white girls, you hear. Food was made to be eaten, and I will not have you puking my money down the toilet. If I ever catch you doing that again, I will whup your ass. I’m not afraid to. Don’t think you can hide it, either. I’m your aunt, I know everything.’

My aunt Cleo was something. I waved to Melanie and headed back for the main room.

If I held back on paying the lights and heating for the building until this month’s student fees came in, I could possibly send aunt Cleo the money she needed. Or I could raid my emergency savings, as much as I was loathed to.Fuck it, family came first. I would check the books before leaving tonight and see what cash was available. There was no need to tell Dante. I had invested the majority into our dance company, and I would replace the money before he noticed it.

“Come on, Madi,” Dante said as soon as I entered the room, impatiently motioning me over. “I need you now.”

My heart clenched in my chest. How I wished he meant that in another way. Thoughts of Matt whispered guiltily through my mind. I pushed them away. Matt and I weren’t a real couple, even though I had feelings for him. We slept together, but I secretly harboured fears that I was a perverse racial experiment. However, he was fantastic in bed and, the plus side was, when Dante finally realized he was in love with me—I had yet to figure out how on earth this was going to happen—I would be able to rock his world because of the things I’d learnt from Matt. Win-win.

Dante slipped his hands on my waist, effortlessly lifting me. “Ready, sweet cheeks?”

I extended my arms, body poised. “Ready.”

SEVEN

THE REALIZATION HOW far out of my league I was hadn’t settled in. I was trying to hide my freak out from Matt, who looked unbelievably attractive in a casual, cream shirt that showed off his broad shoulders to maximum effect, which tapered in at his yummy waist under his dark pants that did nothing to hide those impressive legs of his. His hair wasn’t slicked back as usual, instead laying in semi-tousled, black waves around his head. Damn, he was fine. He sat across me, grey eyes squinting at whatever it was he looked at on the screen of his tablet. I sipped my champagne demurely and tried not to look out of place on his private jet. A text arrived from him Friday night, instructing me a car would be sent to pick me up at six am the next morning. I had texted back saying I had my own car and could meet him at the airport before we had to check in. It was a worry, wondering how we were going to do this. Would anyone recognize him? Would we act like strangers? Would I sit in coach while he enjoyed first class? Where exactly were we heading to in Italy? Would we share a taxi from the airport when we landed? And, if not, why wasn’t he giving me directions to his place so I could get there on my own?

All the worry had been for naught. Matt had sent another text two hours later, again brief and straight to the point, saying everything was under control and for me to be ready when the car arrived.

I took another sip from my glass and watched him surreptitiously from under my lashes. There were tiny crinkles around his eyes, barely noticeable, and the only signs of his age. I personally believed them to be the results of smiling. I liked the thought of him smiling so much his eyes showed the effect. He wasn’t smiling now. Matt was quickly flicking his index finger over the screen and grumbling under his breath. He sighed and looked up. I tried to act as if I hadn’t been observing him without his knowledge.

“I’m sorry, poppet. I’m rotten company at the moment.”

I sipped my champagne, wrinkling my nose at the bubbles. He chuckled, the tension spilling from him moments ago dissipating into nothing. He put the tablet down and beckoned me over. I shook my head and stayed in my seat.

“Come over here and sit on my lap,” he said with a grin.

Another shake of head directed at him. On entering the jet, I had been assailed with the urge to strip him naked and do things, naughty things. It was an urge I had been fighting and was determined to overcome. I was turning into a wanton slut around this man.

“So,” I started in an attempt to change the topic. “You have a private jet.”

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